


red.

by mrspotatohead



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angsty Schmoop, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, M/M, Phanfiction, Sad, Self-Harm, Triggers, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:26:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspotatohead/pseuds/mrspotatohead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>phil finds out dan self harms - - it's not like the movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	red.

It was 3:46am, exactly. 

Dan Howell was awake, wide awake, and he was crying.

Maybe crying wasn't the way to describe it - he was sobbing. His throat was sore and his nose was running and his eyes were so, so bloodshot that when he momentarily glanced at his reflection through blurred vision in the small bathroom mirror, he almost didn't recognize himself. 

He was pale, his face, his hands, his lips. It was a stark contrast to the crimson blood that was pouring down his shaking arm, his mind buzzing and racing and whispering words that didn't even hold any meaning any more - he'd heard them so often, repeated them to himself so often that he just accepted them as fact. 

_fuck up. loser. ugly. faggot. dumb. not good enough._

He wanted to scream until he lost his voice all together, just to drown out the ever darkening thoughts, but he knew that would wake Phil, who was sleeping obliviously, just rooms away, lost in a land of quiet dreams and soothing darkness. 

Phil. His roommate, his best friend, his _person._

They'd known each other a while now, lived with each other for around a year, and everything was _so fucking great_ , because they made each other better people, and they complimented each other so _well_. Even the viewers loved them as a pair, he was no longer just "Dan" he was one half of "Dan and Phil" and that, that made all the difference.  

It helped at first. He was noticeably happier, his thoughts brighter, his eyes more alive. He had a bounce in his step, and a revived energy for life. He thought he way okay. He thought he'd escaped it, escaped the darkness. 

But then, like always, he relapsed. It always found him, he was never truly free, or fine. He was always pulled back down, always drowning, always losing.

His mind once more became a murky, confusing place filled with self doubt, unanswered questions and a gaping need to be better, to _do_ better. But he just couldn't bring himself to put in all the effort, because he genuinely could not see the damn point of it, of any of it. And that scared him, probably more than anything else. 

Seasons came and went, summer was a hazy mist of too-bright skies and long days, winter was a maze of iced over roads and dark corners. Dan barely noticed the difference, too caught up in the puzzle of his own thoughts. 

Youtube was like a sanctuary - a place to vent to people that related to him, that understood him, though even that had a depressing side. Not everyone was supportive and positive, and it was so dumb of him to let anonymous hate comments from 13 year old's get to him, a grown man, but they did. Oh, they did.   

_good for nothing. gross. boring. untalented. lazy. worthle-_

A quiet knock on the wooden bathroom door pulled him out of his trance, his glassy brown eyes widening slightly as he looked down at his arm, still bleeding, still ugly, still painfully raw. 

The cuts were deep. 

"Dan?" Phil sounded sleepy. "Are you okay in there?" 

He panicked, his heart pounding manically as his mind ordered him to _lie, lie lie._ It was his only option. 

"I'm fine!" His voice was rugged and rough and he was amazed at himself for not stuttering or stammering or fucking up. He cleared his burning throat, staring at the door, waiting for a response, hoping that Phil would just take his word and go back to bed. 

"You sure?" The reply sounded hesitant, and the concern seeped through his tone, much more prominent now. The atmosphere thickened with slight tension, and Dan felt nervousness bite at his stomach. 

"Y-yeah!" Dan's voice tittered painfully, and there was a deathly pause, they both missed a beat. 

"Let me in, then." Phil challenged the younger boy, who bit down hard on his lower lip, helplessly glancing at the razor blade in his left hand, and the disgusting slashes on his right arm. He was lost, and he was scared, and the salty tears were again clouding in his eyes before he could stop them. He couldn't breathe. 

"No, Phil. Just - Just go to bed." He tried to make his voice sound warm, and fine, and okay, but it was so _hard_. Lying was hard in general, but lying to Phil was near impossible. 

"Dan," Phil's voice was harsh, now that he knew something was definitely wrong. "Come on, Dan. Let me in, and we'll both go to bed. You sound tired. Let me in." He repeated, his firm tone edged with a hint of worry and a dash of fear.  

None of them spoke for about a minute. A minute that dragged on for what seemed like forever, it was so silent and so tense that Dan could hear the blood pounding in his head, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew that if Phil found out, it would all be over, and he legitimately couldn't handle that. Even the thought of it made his stomach clench and his eyes burn. Everyone would know, his whole coping mechanism would be abolished. How could he live without the one thing that was keeping him sane? 

"Dan, I'm coming in." Phil sounded so sure, so final. _Shit,_ Dan thought powerlessly, _why didn't I lock the fucking door?_

"No, no Phil, please - "

Phil swung the door open, and it was awful. It was so fucking awful. 

They stared at each other, for a long long time. In reality, it was probably only around five minutes, but to both of them it felt like an eternity, an entire age just spent, glaring at each other with wide, frightened eyes. The only noise was the drip of the tap, and the grating tick of the clock. 

"Phil, I -" Dan tried, he tried so fucking hard, but Phil silenced him in one motion, holding up his hand. Dan quietened, his cheeks flushed excessively.  There was so many things he wanted to say in that moment, excuses and explanations but they all sounded feeble and pathetic. He kept his mouth shut.

It was sad, and traumatic, and slightly awkward. When Dan had looked for a split second into Phil's eyes, all he could see was pure pain, pure concern, pure betrayal. 

And it made him hate himself even more, because _he_ caused that, he did this to himself, and to Phil.  

"We need to clean this up." Phil broke his silence, speaking like he was talking about dirty dishes or laundry, so mundane and ordinary. 

Dan nodded softly, terrified of what was going to happen, not daring to look up or speak or even really move. 

Phil got a wash cloth from the sink, and wet it with warm water. He got band aids out of the emergency first aid kit they had, in case one of them had an accident. An _accident._ The idea was laughable now, for this was quite clearly no accident. 

He sat down on the tiled flooring next to the other boy, who was rigid, and speechless, and so fucking _scared_. He looked like a bird trapped in a cage, except the cage was his mind and so he couldn't ever escape. He was afraid. 

He slowly wrapped the band aids around the deep, irritated, gashes, and Dan had never felt more embarrassed, more humiliated in his entire life.

Phil didn't kiss Dan's scars or tell him he was beautiful - it was too sad a situation to do that. It wasn't romantic or dramatic like people sometimes expect - it truly was just overwhelmingly despairing. Dan didn't see how they would ever get past it.

The tension in the room was so thick that it hung over them like a cloud of smoke, like there was a fire that none of them could see. 

"Dan," Phil's voice was softer now, though it wasn't patronizing or demeaning, it was just light, but also harsh, and hurt, and exhausted. "I love you, a lot. You're my best friend in the whole world. And- well I, I want to know _why_. Why would you do this to yourself?"  

Dan squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. He didn't know. He didn't know why. That was the most painful part, that was the worst of it. There was so many reasons, not just a single one, and it just made him feel so much better. It made him feel real, that was it, it made him feel _something,_ as apposed to the usual emptiness that coursed through his veins and nested in his stomach. It lit a fire inside of him that kept him alive through the cold, horrifying nights that he spent staring at his bedroom ceiling, wishing for something, anything that would make him feel okay again.

"You don't understand. " Dan sniffed, his voice sounded so monotonous, so defeated. "-and I can't explain." 

"I'll try to understand." Phil forced a smile, the right side of his mouth quirking upwards in a way that made Dan's heart ache. "Just, tell me what you're thinking right now."

"I'm thinking of - of how I can make you see things the way I do. But I don't know how to." He was still for a second. "And I'm really, really scared." 

"Okay," Phil nodded, registering the words, actually listening to them before deciding what to do next. "Okay." He repeated quietly, his tone soft. 

Neither of them said much after that. Phil embraced Dan, so hard and so meaningfully that for a moment it felt like they both stopped breathing, and the entire universe stopped with them.

"We should go to bed." Phil nodded, and it was the one thing he was sure of in the world. "We're both tired, I think. You can sleep in my bed, okay? And we'll figure things out - we will."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Things always seem clearer in the morning." Phil sighed, stroking a piece of hair out of Dan's face, admiring the younger boy like he was a work of art, and in some ways, he was. As they looked into each other's eyes, they knew things were about to get much harder, but it was worth it. 

It was absolutely worth it, because that meant recovery, that meant Dan would be okay, and that was worth all the hardship in the world. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is so angsty and it really kinda sucks so i'm SORRY
> 
> but if you enjoyed be sure to kudos and leave a review!
> 
>  
> 
> if you struggle with self harm, please take a look at the following links and reach out to someone, please:  
> http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/self-harm/#.Vd6boflViko  
> http://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/healthadvice/problemsdisorders/self-harm.aspx  
> http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  
> https://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/PDF/Self-Harm%20Distractions%20and%20Alternatives%20FINAL.pdf  
> http://sirius-project.org/2011/08/16/distractions-and-alternatives-to-self-harm/


End file.
